


Growing Up

by tosca1390



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-06
Updated: 2010-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She was too old for Daddy, too old for childish moments and fancies.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the July edition of the [](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/profile)[**where_no_woman**](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/) [Drabblefest](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/137707.html), for prompt #18: _I only know I call him Daddy (as all southern women do until the day we die)._.

*

Joanna began addressing her messages to her father to _Dad_ , not _Daddy_ , when she turned thirteen years old, right at the end of his first tour of duty. She was a teenager now, she knew about the world, knew about aliens and danger and disease and a good man named Jim Kirk who was only called Uncle for the sake of keeping all her father-figures straight. She was too old for _Daddy_ , too old for childish moments and fancies.

“Dad?” Jim smirked over the holovideo on her fourteenth birthday, in a galaxy far far away, with her father mumbling and grumbling in the background.

Joanna blushed, but kept her head held high. “I’m growing up,” she said plaintively.

“Don’t tell him that,” Jim murmured, grinning at her. “He’s been freaking out about it, but he won’t say anything.”

“Damnit, Jim, shut your trap!” her father hollered, and both Jim and Joanna began to laugh and laugh, because even in space, on a starship, with darkness in every corner, he was still Leonard Horatio McCoy, and there was something reassuring about that.

“It’s not a big deal, Uncle Jim,” she said once she regained her breath, still smiling widely. “Tell him it’s not a big deal. I’m just older now. Women don’t call their fathers _Daddy_ their whole lives.”

Jim raised a singular brow, a trick she could only assume he had forced Spock to teach him. “That’s not what I heard about good Southern ladies.”

She giggled and her father pushed Jim out of the way to say _Happy Birthday_ , but she could see the worry and hurt in her father’s eyes, and she just didn’t know what to say.

*

She turned eighteen, fresh out of high school and preparing for college (pre-med, much to her mama’s resignation). Her dad and Jim were still up there in the black, finishing the end of their second tour. They had wanted to be here, or to bring her up to the ship, but an emergency had come up, and Jim (she felt silly calling him _Uncle Jim_ now, after a ring exchange and official paperwork, but no wedding, because her dad looked like he was going to have a coronary whenever Jim brought up the word) couldn’t say no, even for her birthday.

She didn’t mind. It was hot and humid, magnolias on the breeze and early morning sun fluttering through the window. She didn’t have any plans, just to enjoy the day, enjoy the wide-open future. Starting with chocolate-chip pancakes, her traditional birthday breakfast, started years and years ago when her dad still lived under their roof and her parents were still in love.

Tripping down the stairs, she pulled up her hair, listening for her mama’s morning shows, waiting for the smell of coffee to hit her nose. “Mama?” she called, hitting the foot of the stairs and veering right towards the kitchen. “Mama?”

She poked into the kitchen, stopping short at the two tall men sitting at the island, one looking decidedly more enthusiastic than the other.

“Surprise!” Jim said gleefully, a wide white smile splitting his face, which had new scars and new lines, but was still young and fresh at heart.

“Hi, Jo,” her dad said from the far stool, a mug of coffee in his hand and an uneasy look in his eyes. “Happy Birthday.”

Mouth agape, Joanna stared at them both, trying to suppress the hot burn of tears behind her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she asked finally.

Jim pouted— _pouted_ —and glanced at her dad. “She’s not excited. I think I’m not good at surprises,” he said sadly, opposite thumb twisting the gold band on his left ring finger in a familiar and heart-warming nervous habit she knew he’d picked up somewhere along the line.

“It’s a shock, Jim, I’m sure she’ll recover,” her dad drawled, rolling his eyes before sliding off the stool and walking to Joanna. His face was lined in new ways, his hair going a little grey at the temples (all Jim’s fault, he would tell her later), but it was still her dad, and he was _here_ —

“Hi, Daddy,” she said thickly before pressing herself into his arms, breathing in antiseptic and grass and what she thought was _space_.

“Back to _Daddy_ , are we?” Jim said with more than a little amusement as her dad hugged her tightly, rocking her back and forth slightly. “Does this mean I get pancakes too?”

*  



End file.
